Return of snow serves as reminder of past, motivation for future

As the end of the semester approaches, I hear many people complaining about a variety of topics.  From the emotional maelstrom that is finals week to the onslaught of endless Christmas music, the wintry season delivers a plethora of talking points to grumble about.

Alex "Q" Bieler, assistant sports editor

However, there is one subject that rises above all others. Indeed, there’s no business like snow business.

While some folks would like to give snow the cold shoulder, I’ve always embraced the white stuff. It doesn’t hurt that my 6-foot-5 bearded self tends to run warm, so the temperature shift never bothered me.  Instead, the snow acts as a reminder.

When I walk out of my house and see the snow piled up outside my porch, a wave of memories pass through my mind. Suddenly, I’m back to the days of my youth, recalling the snowstorms of the 90s.

Back in the days when I would actually get off school for snow days, my siblings and I would play in the snow for hours. Our dog at the time, an Alaskan malamute named Portia, would pull us around in a sled in our backyard. We would scream with delight as she lugged us through the snow.

The days were simpler back then. It was a time of no responsibility, just innocence. Now, as finals week approaches, every week becomes a marathon, the hurdles faced necessary for graduation.

Such looming obstacles can seem daunting.  That’s where my favorite memory of snow comes in.

By the time we finish production on the Gannon Knight, it can be very late. Oftentimes, I head home around 2 a.m. I normally never pass a single person on my trek home. The hike just consists of my iPod and I.

On my first of many wintry walks to my junior year residence in Kenilworth, the world seemed like it froze in place. The lights on the buildings warmly glowed as not a soul would ever come in sight. The only movement in the air was the endless, gentle descent of snow.

Peter Gabriel’s “Here Comes the Flood” played in my ear. Gabriel’s hushed voice and piano matched the picturesque scene as, despite my need for sleep at such a late hour, I wished that my walk would never end. It was the break I would need from the real world.

This was serenity.

Moments like that feed my love of snow. Sometimes, all it takes to survive the hustling and bustling world we live in is a reminder.

For me, I ended up learning so much by being left out in the cold.

ALEX BIELER

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